


Control

by Anonymous



Series: WIP [5]
Category: American Psycho - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blackmail, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, Dark Character, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Gaslighting, Gay Panic, Gay Sex, M/M, Manipulation, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Violence, Violence, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A WIP for the beginning of a series I want to start :')
Relationships: Patrick Bateman/Luis Carruthers
Series: WIP [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833904
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17
Collections: Anonymous





	Control

Patrick doesn't particularly like Luis. 

He finds the little measel disgusting, in fact. Luis practically oozed grease wherever he walked. Recently, his opinion of the dumb little shit has.. shifted.

Where he once wanted to light the grease up and watch the man burn, he thinks about making the man get on his knees and shove his face in his own filth.

The thought satisfied him, surprisingly. 

Sitting in the office of Pierce and Pierce, Patrick turns his music up. He's listening to Whitney Houston. A porn mag is open on his lap, and he licks his fingers before he turns the page. Pondering. 

He doesn't like Luis. Not at all. But.. he did like hurting people. Making them suffer. 

And he did like having sex. Which what Luis must have been after. When he went to go strangle the little bitch until his face was blue, the man had the decency to look downright amorous. Love struck, even. 

Tenderly kissing his wrist, caressing his face..

Furiously washing his hands, still covered in the expensive gloves. Feeling irreversibly marred. Luis behind him, his eyes glancing up at their reflection. The smile on the fools face, the unnameable look in his eye.

I want you.. I want you too.. 

Patrick remembers panicking, looking at the man and pure disgust filling his being. Unable to hold his monster back anymore. Being stopped by him, spitting out his usual excuse; video tapes. 

He ran, still wearing his black leather gloves. Needing to leave before he killed someone in the open. Before he went back in the bathroom and ruined the little fairy, fucking him unconcious and bathing in his blood.

Even so, when the rat called out his name he stopped and turned. 

The twit had overtly gestured call me standing on the balcony over the entire restaurant. Patrick felt his entire face flush, leaving before he could ponder what everyone thought of him.

He was not a… He was not like Luis. 

Patrick goes to flip the next page, turning his music down. The feature on the page is a nice blonde bimbo with a great ass. He had always been an ass over tits guy. Maybe he should see Christie again..

Her sheer stupidity, along with her flexibility.. He regrets not taking her life when he had the chance. She had been admirably fearful the morning she left, and he would have to be much nicer for her to be persuaded into another night at his apartment. 

His mind drifting, staring at the porn, Patrick eventually shifts into focus when his office phone rings. Looping his headphones around his neck and moving his chair so he can pick it up.

"Hello?" He answers, spinning his chair and looking out the window of his office. Assuming his secretary is calling.

Instead of Jean, he's greeted by a familiar grating tone.

"Hello, Patrick."

Carruthers. 

He cringes, muscles tensing. He's struck with the overwhelming need to wash his hands. 

Patrick throws the porn mag from his lap to the desk, scooting forward and silently groaning.

Bateman considers hanging up immediately.. But. Hadn't he just been thinking of the dork? If he avoided Luis, the man might talk to other people to get back into contact with him.. 

He didn't want anyone to know about the freak's.. infatuation for him.

He just had to.. play along. 

"I… Hello, Carruthers. What is it?" He responds, voice steady after the false start. Looking down at his desk. 

"Ah.. well, you see.. um.. About the Yale Club.." The man went silent for a moment. 

Patrick would rather shoot himself then think about the damn Yale Club again. 

"I didn't want it to happen like that, I just.." Luis laughed on the other end. High and airy, like he had when he was describing Patrick's outfit in the bathroom. 

Lovesick. Flirty.

It made his teeth grind together painfully. He runs his tongue over his molars. 

"I was just so thrilled you.. you wanted me. I know you were a bit freaked out, but.. I promise to contain myself this time! We can take it slow.. I don't want you just for your body, y'know?" The laugh came again. 

"What do you want, Carruthers? Why are you calling me?" He asks tersely, a headache beginning to form. On his work phone, nonetheless. 

He turns his chair again, the wire stretching as he peers out of his front window. Jean wasn't looking his way. 

"Well.. what about dinner? Th-the two of us..."

Patrick opens his mouth to shout that he would never willingly go to dinner with him of all people, but stops. 

He thinks back to the business card Luis had pulled out at the Yale Club. If they were.. hypothetically, going on a "date" (the thought alone made him shudder and want a shower) where would Luis take him?

The cheap fuck certainly wouldn't take him anywhere nice. Still, Patrick was inherently curious. He considers seeing where this goes. Just for the thrill of the kill, of course. 

He couldn't care less about the man. 

"Dinner.. where?"

There's shuffling on the other end of the line. "My place. Courtney's out of town for the next week.. I can make us dinner." 

Patrick scrunches his nose up at the thought of eating dinner at Luis' apartment. If he were to have dinner with the flamboyant man, it would be at his own apartment. Where all of his tools and supplies were in close reach. 

He tilts his head to the side, pressing his fist against his jawline. Thinking of a time when he had gotten drinks at Harry's, nearly six months ago.

Luis had been there, throwing him what he now knew was sultry gazes. Patrick had met his gaze briefly, and a stark blush had light up his pale face.

The pathetic man had sat at the bar, waiting and waiting to be tended to by the bartender. Never calling out to the server. 

Patrick distinctly remembers feeling disgusted with the man not bold enough to order his own drink. But also curious. 

He wonders what Luis looks like on his knees, tears in his eyes. Blood on his face. Flushed cock dripping between pale thighs.

"Okay.. Dinner, when?" Patrick opens his address book, grabbing a pen and absentmindedly sketching a morbid scene. Luis at the middle of it.

The fucker sputters on the other end, like he hadn't been expecting Patrick to agree. Well, what was he supposed to do? Say no?

"When? Oh, wow, um! C-can you do tomorrow? I don't have anything I need to do in the evening." Patrick finds himself smirking, to the point where his face hurt. 

He hums, disinterested, as he draws nails going through the man's testicles. Smirking to himself, scribbling and giving the man more agonized tears.

"Yes, I can do tomorrow. I've got nothing to do either." Except kill you, of course. He bites his tongue. 

"That's.. that's wonderful. Well, come by around 7, then. You know where my apartment is.." It was particularly impressive, but the view was half decent. He had been there once before. 

Before he could say anything, Luis was talking again. In that light, much too affectionate airy tone he had adapted in the restroom. 

"I..can't wait to see you, Patrick. Have a nice day, okay?" 

"Bye."

He sets down the phone and pushes back from the desk. Fitting his headphones back on, the flawless tones of Whitney Houston serenading him as he rolls to the window. Overlooking New York.

Thinking through exactly how he's going to kill Carruthers. 

\--

The next evening, Patrick leaves his apartment at 6:30. For most events involving Luis previously, he was always late. Not this time. He's going to arrive early.

He wants to fluster Luis, stand by and watch him run around like a chicken with his head cut off. Like a fool. Patrick wants to humiliate him, subtly. See how he reacts.. break down his fortress.

Of course, the true humiliation wouldn't be until after dinner.

That's where his plan really begins to flourish.

Patrick arrives at the apartment on foot at 6:45, smoothing out his hair and straightening his tie. He rings the doorbell and smiles friendly when Luis opens it.


End file.
